


Redemption

by doodly_squat



Series: The Heart of a Rebel [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11769081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodly_squat/pseuds/doodly_squat
Summary: As the crew takes on a dangerous new mission, Kallus is introduced to life aboard the Ghost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _This story follows after my previous story 'Fulcrum's Zero Hour.' Haven't read it? Don't feel like reading it? WHAT?! Just kidding. Here's all you need to know for the start of this story: this is set after the Zero Hour episodes; Kallus is part of the Ghost crew; Sabine, Ezra and Kanan have separated from the Ghost and are helping Clan Wren fight Clan Saxon on Mandalor._

It’d been four standard days since the Ghost had left Yavin IV, and the small crew had already accomplished so much. 

Sitting in the cockpit, using a datapad to review their latest successful raid on an Imperial supply depot, Hera let out a soft sigh. Beside her, Chopper gave a quiet hum and continued to run a ship diagnostic.

Their main mission might’ve sounded simple, but Hera knew better. 

_Be seen._

It was a markedly important directive housed in two little words. 

Still, from experience, she knew survival often relied on stealth, on remaining concealed. This mission, by all accounts, was tempting the fates, and sooner or later, the Ghost’s luck would run out. However, for as much as Hera wanted to give in, declare the mission too perilous, she couldn’t argue with the results. 

Every skirmish they engaged the Empire in resulted in Imperial ships and troopers being diverted to the Ghost’s current locale and potentially away from other rebel activity–away from critical Rebellion supply lines, from discovering the base at Yavin IV and from Mandalor. 

With any luck, they were giving Clan Wren the edge they needed for victory.

The lone ship certainly wasn’t having any difficulty attracting attention. While the Ghost would’ve been a fine enough trophy, Kallus seemed to be the most enticing bait of all. To evade capture, the Ghost had to remain almost continuously on the move.

Word of the ex-agent’s defection had clearly spread throughout the Empire. Already other Imperial defectors were stepping forward, asking to join the rebels. From reports, Hera had been informed that processing the newcomers was tedious and challenging, as the rebels were wary, but the wealth of skill and knowledge each true recruit brought had already begun to strengthen the Rebellion.

So, it was no surprise that the Empire was clamoring for Kallus’ demise. His continued sightings would only fuel the quiet murmurs of discontent within the Imperial ranks.

The difficultly was in trying to discreetly attract the Empire’s attention without drawing suspicion, so Kallus’ appearances couldn’t be overly overt. Fortunately, the ex-agent, with his many talents, was good at _accidentally_ being discovered by a Stormtrooper as the Ghost attacked its targets. Incidentally, with a Twi’lek, a clone, a Lasat and an Imperial defector for a crew, it would have been hard to keep their presence anywhere a secret for long. 

In a further attempt to appear inconspicuous, the Ghost’s raids and attacks were to appear haphazard and desperate–which meant allowing themselves to get into some pretty tight situations before fleeing, but, truthfully, their planning had been meticulous. Kallus had worked tirelessly on helping select the targets, trying to ensure the ship didn’t tackle any target that would be too heavily defended.

An incoming message distracted Hera from her wandering thoughts. She opened it, read it, and felt a new burden of worry and anxiety settle upon her. 

“Chop,” Hera said, setting the datapad aside, “finish the diagnostic and then take us into the next jump. We’ll go to the planet Coonee to trade and refuel.”

The droid gave a warbled, disheartened groan of an answer.

“I know,” Hera replied softly, “I’d rather keep to the Outer Rim as well, but duty calls.”

Chopper gave a grumbled answer.

She stood and gave the droid a gentle pat. “I agree, it is too dangerous, but that’s never stopped us in the past, has it?” Without waiting for a reply, she exited the cockpit, leaving the droid to its work. She would have liked to have given Chopper more comfort and reassurance, but her own doubts stifled that.

What she needed at the moment was to find Kallus and get his opinion on this latest message she’d just received. It was, after all, only fair to seek him out, as the information was about him.

When there was any free time to be had, usually during their long hyper jumps, Hera knew there were two main places she’d find Kallus. 

One was in the common room with his datapad in hand. He seemed to gravitate to the space. Perhaps he took comfort in the presence of his new crew, or maybe he found it awkward remaining in the cabin he shared with the absent Jedi. He undoubtedly felt like a guest in the room instead of an occupant. Hopefully that would change once Kanan returned to the Ghost.

On these occasions, Zeb and Rex would usually be chatting or playing Dejarik in the crew’s shared space. The clone and Lasat had tried repeatedly to get Kal to join in on a game, but he would always decline, stating he’d too many reports to review. Hera noted how the invitation to play, while refused, still seemed to evoke an honest happiness and gratitude in Kallus.

With the mask of a hardened scowl that he wore as an Imperial gone, Kallus’ expressions, while still subtle, became unexpectedly clear for Hera to read. It felt odd to find that kind of vulnerability in the ex-agent.  
His smile came easily. It was a light sometimes unsure thing, but it granted him a sense of serenity where once an imposing threat had resided. The stiff Imperial posture would be harder for the man to lose, but, while he kept his shoulders squared and back straight, he didn’t hold his head as high or chest so pretentiously inflated.

There certainly seemed to be a newfound humbleness to the man.

Hera had praised a few of Kal’s early reports, but the kind words only seemed to trouble him. He’d mumbled something about it being his duty and abruptly asked to be excused. It wasn’t until after he was gone, until she reviewed the reports again, that she realized one string of data had been about the prisoners from Tarkintown. 

Many were interrogated. Those who survived were to be transported from a facility near Lothal to a more secure and established detention center where their questioning would continue. They were not labeled and held as rebel sympathizers – they were being held as rebels.

Kallus’ notes on the prison transport were extensive, though most were speculation and educated guesses. He’d obviously spent a lot of time researching the matter, and when Hera checked the timestamps for his report notes, she found he’d stayed up all night trying and failing to pinpoint the time and final destination of that particular transport.

As her memories lingered on Kallus’ attempts to right the wrongs done to Tarkintown, Hera entered the common room, but she found it empty, quiet. 

Turning around, Hera headed to the second location that Kallus favored–the cargo hold. 

She quickened her pace as she heard voices, controlled yet vibrant, echoing off the ship's walls, mixing with the sound of a scuffle - metal clanging against metal, punctuated with growls and grunts of exertion. Rex's voice rang out above all else, but Hera couldn't tell what the clone was saying. Whatever it was, it was frantic, urgent.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting atop a crate in the cargo hold, Rex considered the situation carefully. One wrong move would end it all.

Zeb’s bo-rifle was in the staff position, the tip crackling with electricity. 

Movements sluggish, labored, the Lasat’s ears drooped as he panted for breath. He’d the advantage of strength and a superior weapon, but his adversary had seen that and wisely chosen to fatigue his larger foe before fully engaging. 

Face flushed, skin glistening with sweat, Kallus held a metal and wooden staff made from scavenged parts. It was an ugly weapon, but it served its purpose well enough. He’d managed to fend off Zeb’s advances, keeping the Lasat moving, but perhaps the man had misjudged how long it would take to tire his opponent. Soon, both would succumb to exhaustion. 

Rex scoffed. _What fun was there in a draw?_

“Watch that left side!” he shouted at Zeb, “He’ll feign right again, I’m sure of it!”

Just as Rex called out, Kallus began to lunge forward, but the sudden warning granted to his rival seemed to startle the man, and his strike faltered. Zeb easily sidestepped the swing. The Lasat’s returning attack should have landed, but the ex-agent deftly evaded. 

Rex groaned.

“That’s not exactly fair!” Kallus huffed, barely able to get the words out as he moved to a safe distance – just out of his adversary’s reach. “You’re supposed to be giving me advice this round. I’m the one with the substandard weapon.”

“Yeah,” Rex laughed, “but you’re also the only one who hasn’t been zapped by the blasted bo-rifle yet during this sparring session, _and_ you were the one who landed the strikes on both of us.”

Kallus smirked. “I hadn’t realized we were keeping score.” 

“We aren’t,” Zeb grumbled and then flashed a toothy grin, “… _and_ we are. After all, I can’t let you be the only one to win matches today using _my_ bo-rifle.”

Rex had been surprised when Zeb had agreed to let them rotate in using his bo-rifle during their sparring match. It was not a decision that the Lasat would have come to lightly, and the significance of the gesture of wasn’t lost on Rex. 

Though they had been working together as a unit only a short time, Rex already felt a strong connection to the Lasat and ex-Imperial. They were no clones, but they felt like his brothers just the same.

In a burst of energy, Zeb sprang forward, quickly altering his strike stance from high to low. The speed and ferocity of the attack had clearly surprised Kallus, and he was too slow in adjusting his defense. There was the quick crackle of electricity hitting its mark, followed by a nearly breathless grunt of pain.

The makeshift staff clattered aside, and Kallus dropped to his hands and knees, head hanging so that his face was obscured. His only movement was his body gently swaying with each heaved breath he took. 

Zeb stood nearby, concern straining his features slightly as he stared at his floored opponent. Gaze still fixed on Kallus, he powered down his bo-rifle. 

Without moving, Rex waited patiently, knowing that it took a few moments to gather one’s wits after a shock from the weapon.

For a few seconds, save for the humming of the ship, there was silence. Finally, Kallus gave a quiet chuckle and sat up.

“We’re doing team training next time, right?” He pushed back his loose strands of hair that refused to stay in their once orderly place. “Because I much prefer it when we all are on the same side and I’m not being shocked with a bo-rifle.”

Zeb offered Kallus a hand and, as it was taken, the Lasat pulled the man to his feet. 

“It’s on the lowest setting,” Zeb countered.

“Yeah, well, its lowest setting still packs a wallop,” Rex added, hopping off the crate and strolling closer to the others. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that thing when it was cranked up any higher.”

A gentle, forced cough had them looking up, finding Hera on the platform above watching them.

“Are you finished?” She asked, a small amused grin in place, “or did you need more time to shock each other senseless?”

“It’s on the lowest setting,” Zeb repeated. “It won’t _kill_ anyone!”

Hera rolled her eyes. “Oh, if it won’t _kill_ anyone then of course it’s okay.” Slowly, the smile eased from her face. “The Empire has put out new orders. They want Kallus captured alive.”

Rex glanced at Kallus. The ex-agent’s eyes were narrowed, his gaze emotionless, distant. Kallus often had that same look when he was logically, methodically piecing through the information in his reports.

“Word of my defection has spread too far within the Empire.” Kallus replied evenly. “I’m sure they’d hope to dispose of me quickly before my actions could motivate others, but they are too late for that now.” 

“Karabast,” Zeb muttered, “it won’t be good if they get their hands on you.” 

“They will try to break me and get me to bow down to the Empire once again.” Kallus paused, a faint frown forming–as if the realization of the situation seemed to be gradually sinking in. “My return to service in the Empire would undermine the work we’ve done aboard the Ghost – it would discourage anyone who had been considering defection from the Empire.”

Rex let out a soft sigh. “And if they don’t break you…” He trailed off, sharing a knowing look with Kallus.

“My interrogation, drawn out by refusals to rejoin the Imperial ranks, would leave me…” Kallus scowled “…permanently damaged, but they would keep me alive. Perhaps they would find a way to parade me around the academies, present me to the cadets as a grim reminder of what happens to defectors.”

“And, to add emphasis to their story, they’ll probably claim you were maimed by rebels,” Hera added. “That would make anyone considering defection to our side rethink their choice.”

Kallus nodded slowly. “Yes, and I would be well beyond being able to relay the truth to anyone. The Empire would make sure of that.”

“Well then,” Zeb said, “It’s a good thing you aren’t going to get captured – not on my watch!”

It was a nice sentiment, but Kallus’ weak smile at the comment wasn’t fooling Rex. The man was afraid. 

“We’ll make our stop at Coonee to refuel and get supplies before making our next run,” Hera paused, crossing her arms, taking up her best authoritative stance. “After this next mission, I’m calling back to base and telling them we’re heading home. We’ve done enough out here on our own, and the stakes are getting too high.”

The decision, at least to Rex, was dissatisfying. He knew it was only his stubbornness and pride wanting to keep going, to not be intimidated by the Empire’s new tactic. He could find no voice for an argument though as he looked to Zeb and Kallus. They looked as conflicted as he felt, and he knew that they too wanted to speak up, to not let the Empire have this slight win, but if they continued and the Ghost failed – if Kallus was captured…

Rex glanced at the ex-agent, finding him looking a shade paler than usually. His expression twisted with anxiety and stoic determination.

Hera was right. There was too much at stake.

“I spoke with Kanan earlier,” she added, her voice taking on a lighter tone, “It sounds like they might be heading back to Yavin IV soon as well. Hopefully, we’ll all be able to join back up.”

“How are things going on Mandalore?” Zeb asked. 

Hera signed. “From the stories Kanan told, things are complicated, but they’ve got a plan in place.” Unfolding her arms, she leaned against the rail. “I’m going to go check on Chop. We should be making the hyper jump soon. I suggest you all get some rest before we get to Coonee – just in case our visit this time is _anything_ like last time.” She gave a tight smile. “ _Not_ that I’m encouraging it, but I know I won’t be able to stop you all once you get started.” With that, she turned and left.

Rex grinned to himself. They had made a bit of mess the last visit. Surely, there would be a few residents of Vidaileen, the small village on Coonee, who wouldn’t be happy to see them again, but there were also more than a dozen who’d be thrilled.

Unexpectedly, and rather forcefully, the makeshift staff was thrust into Rex’s hands. He blinked, staring dully down at the weapon. Looking up, he found the Lasat grinning back at him.

“We haven’t had our last round yet,” Zeb said. “And this time I get the bo-rifle.”

Rex groaned. Taking up a defensive stance, he planned his first few moves and prepared himself for the inevitably shock that was to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Zeb waited impatiently, eager to be off the ship. 

The Ghost’s ramp lowered, slowly revealing the lush green farmlands of Coonee. 

From what Zeb knew of the planet, to the north, where the weather was warmer and drier, the extensive coldppeda farms dominated the land, but, seeing as the large fifteen footed, scaled beasts preferred the heat, the herders had given up expanding into the cooler southlands. 

Still, the coldppedas ruled the southern land in a different manner, as the farmers here grew vast fields of crops destined for the great brutes. 

Coldppeda meat, prized for its aphrodisiacal qualities, fetched a hefty price on the market. The caretakers of the great beasts were willing to spend a healthy portion of credits to keep their assets well fed. 

Stepping off the ship, Zeb took in a deep breath. He liked the scent of this planet, or, more accurately, he liked the scent of Vidaileen, the small farming and trading village.

It smelled of rich, freshly tilled soil, of leafy plants warming themselves in the sun, of the cool, mossy forest edging the farmlands. From the rows of wooden houses came the odor of baked breads and smoked meats.

Hera and Kallus had been careful in choosing this location to acquire supplies. 

The village was a trading hub for the crop farmers of Coonee, and the villagers, more interested in their own business than others’, tended to ask few questions of those with whom they traded. They followed a simple motto of _‘live and let live.’_

Coonee was one of the locations, Kallus had assured them, where the Empire had great difficulty in gathering information. The locals’ reluctance to share intel was only tolerated as the coldppeda and crop farms paid handsome taxes to the Empire. Zeb had no doubt that if the cumbersome coldppedas were easier to raise or could be used in battle, the Empire would simply seize the farmlands. 

“ZEB!” The distant shout was followed by a squeal of laughter.

Six tiny figures had separated from those laboring in the fields. With their little legs pumping, giving squeals of delight, they sprinted toward the Ghost.

Amused, Zeb watched the children, bracing himself once they drew near. 

One by one, each child collided into Zeb’s legs, grabbing hold and vying to keep their place clinging to the Lasat as other children threaten to push them off. Most were human, but there were two small Rodians. 

The chaotic, excited greeting felt more welcoming to Zeb than any he’d ever received as of late.

“Where’s Rex?” One child questioned, peering up at Zeb. His little tanned, dust covered face taking on a comically serious expression. “Space pirates didn’t get him, did they?”

Zeb tried but couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter that escaped. 

“Never,” Rex bellowed, strolling down the ramp. “I’m too feisty for them!”

Immediately the boy and one of the Rodians let go of Zeb and ran to Rex. 

“Rex, you came back!” The little boy exclaimed and leapt into the clone’s outstretched arms.

Rex barely had time to catch the child and tuck him under his arm before the Rodian was jumping into his grasp as well. With a little maneuvering, Rex managed to situate each child under an arm, toting them about like awkward sacks of grain. They giggled wildly as he swung them around.

“I think you’ve grown since we’ve been here last,” Rex huffed in a gruff voice. “You’re heavier.”

“Are not!” The little Rodian girl squealed. 

Rex let out a hearty laugh. “By golly, then I must have gotten weaker!”

Kallus and Chopper made their way down the ramp, a faint, tight smile pulling at Kallus’ lips. Zeb felt the other small Rodian let go of his leg. He watched the child calmly, confidently, stroll up to Kal, stand beside him and put his small hand in Kallus’. 

Beem, the young Rodian who’d taken a shine to the ex-agent, had been the man’s constant shadow on their last visit. 

Apparently, the youth had never been able to speak. His parents had explained that various medical stations had found no physical reason for Beem’s silence, but still, the boy had never been heard to utter a sound.

On their first visit to Vidaileen, when Kallus understood the boy’s signing without any need for an interpreter, a friendship was instantly born. 

It shouldn’t have surprised Zeb that Kallus knew Galactic Sigh Language, as it would surely come in handy for an ISB officer to know, but, as he watched Kal and the boy sign back and forth, he still felt astonished by the man’s talents. Knowing a few signs was common enough, but Kallus appeared to have an extensive knowledge of the language. 

“Are you going to play pole-ball with us again?” One of the little boys clinging to Zeb’s leg asked. “Like last time?”

What was the lad’s name again? Zeb frowned. There were just so many of them, and, with brown hair and brown eyes, they all looked rather alike. At least Lasat kits had varying stripe patterns to help tell them apart. 

“Actually, they’re still in trouble from the last time,” Hera answered as she joined the small group. “So, at the moment, they don’t have their captain’s permission to play pole-ball.”

A unified groan escaped the children. 

“Unless,” Hera paused, arching a brow, “they promise not to damage any crops or send home filthy children to their mothers and fathers.”

“Well,” Kallus mused, “That means we’d have to find a dry field, clear of crops to play on.”

Zeb felt a tinge of amusement. He hadn’t thought the children would get the ex-agent to agree to play on their last visit, but, somehow, Beem had gotten the man to set aside his reports and just have fun.

“It hasn’t rained in days,” the boy hanging in Rex’s grasp eagerly replied.

“And I know where a field is we can use,” the little girl clinging to Zeb chimed in. “The poles are already set up, and the older kids will be done with work soon.” She paused, staring up at Zeb with big, doleful eyes. “Please, will you play?”

Zeb grinned down at her. How could he say no to that? “Well, if we are going to play, someone better go get the ball.”

Whatever semblance of tranquility the children had managed up to that point was shattered. The two children wriggled from Rex’s arms, dropping to the ground with exuberant shouts. They managed to get to their feet, racing after the three children who’d abandoned Zeb as they ran toward the village. Each child was shouting out, claiming they’d be the victor in retrieving the ball.

Only Beem stayed silent and still, watching the others sprint off as he continued to hold Kallus’ hand.

Hera sighed and then let her gaze shift between Rex, Zeb and Kallus. “Okay, you have to promise me that you won’t let the game get out of hand like last time. The field shouldn’t be a mud pit, and I know you won’t trample any crops this time but…” She paused and shook her head. “No, there is only one of you I can trust to keep to this promise–to keep the others in line.” Hera stooped down, setting a hand gently on Beem’s shoulder. “Will you keep an eye on my crew for me? Will you keep them out of trouble?”

The small Rodian gave a firm nod and Hera smiled at the child.

“They can be a handful,” the Twi’lek added, “but I’m sure you are up to the task.”

Beem gave her a stiff salute.

Zeb grinned at that. The kid was cute, even if he did take himself a bit too seriously. 

Of course, now the three would have to be on their best behavior. After all, they couldn’t let the little tyke take any of their mistakes on as his own. It was a smart move on Hera’s part.

“Thank you.” Hera replied. She then stood and started back for the ship. “Come on Chop, some of us still have work to do.”

The little droid gave a groan and followed Hera. 

Beem tugged on Kallus’ hand, motioning for the three to follow him, and, as they obeyed, he was soon leading them away from the Ghost. By the time they’d reached the field, it was teeming with children. Word of their arrival, it would seem, had spread fast.

After dividing up–Rex and Zeb were on one of the teams and Kallus on the other–the game quickly began.

Pole-ball was a hybrid game the children of Vidaileen had concocted. They’d scavenged rules from various other sports, altering them on whims–sometimes while the game was in play. As far as Zeb could tell, the main objective of the game, at least, remained consistent. 

There were two poles on opposite ends of a large field. Each pole was approximately thirteen feet high and marked at four feet, eight feet and twelve feet. The goal was to kick a ball past the opponents to their pole and then kick the ball to hit the pole as high as possible. The higher the ball hit, the more points a team gained. 

There were other rules too–ones Zeb did not fully understand. Somehow, a player could freeze another player. Zeb hadn’t a clue how this was achieved or what this meant, but whenever he was commanded to stay in place for three minutes, he assumed someone had frozen him.

It was still early into the game, and Zeb had lost track of the times he’d been informed he was breaking the rules. Patiently, politely, the children would explain his misstep. He was fairly certain they took some kind of joyous exasperation from the fact he couldn’t seem to grasp the guidelines of the game. 

Finally, Zeb caved and resorted to the same cheat he had during the last game. He plucked one of the youngest players off the field and set the little boy on his shoulders. 

“Hey squirt,” Zeb whispered, “I need you to tell me what to do, okay?”

The child boisterously agreed, and besides the fact that Zeb had his ears constantly tugged and played with, he managed, with the help, to keep within the rules.

Rex had taken up a defender spot, guarding their team’s pole. He’d favored the position the last game as well, telling Zeb later that he liked that it required less blasted running.

Kallus and Beem made quite the pair, moving the ball up the field and scoring a couple of points for their team. Unfortunately, their team was already behind so far that they could never hope to even the score, but it really didn’t seem to matter to the man or small Rodian. They played hard and celebrated each point scored as if it was a victory. 

Kal’s limp was back, but it was slight and didn’t seem to be bothering the man too badly. Still, Zeb kept an eye on the ex-agent, ready to halt their game if the limp became too severe. When they did get back to Yavin IV, Zeb was going to drag Kal to the med station, whether he wanted to go or not, to get that leg looked at. 

Dusk had set when the sharp tolling of a single bell sounded. As quickly as the game had been taken up, it was abandoned. Children shouted their goodbyes and turned back toward the village, hurrying off into the dim evening. 

Beem signed to Kallus, and Kal explained to the others, that this was the dinner bell–meant to call the children home. It had been installed after the children had stayed out worrisomely late the last time they played pole-ball with the Ghost crew. 

The ex-agent and Rodian child exchanged a flurry of signs. Zeb could understand a little, as he knew the signs most commonly used amongst the Wookiees. 

From what Zeb could decipher, they were saying their goodbyes. In the morning, before even the tiny farming village came to life, the Ghost would leave Coonee, and while Zeb wouldn’t mind visiting the planet one last time on their way back to Yavin IV after their mission, it wasn’t something any of them could guarantee. 

Finally, Kallus crouched as the little Rodian hesitantly approached him. Beem’s large glossy eyes closed as he lurched forward and hugged the man, and, after a moment of looking incredible uncomfortable in the situation, Kallus smiled and wrapped his arms around the child. 

And then, Beem let go, stepping back to happily grin up at Kal. 

As one last sharp toll of the bell sounded, the Rodian turned and was running off, but he paused once to look back and wave. 

Zeb, Rex and Kal waved back, and then Beem turned and continued his sprint toward the village.

“He’s taken a real shine to you,” Rex said quietly. 

Kallus’ smile weakened but remained. “Only because I’m proficient at Galactic Sign Language.”

Zeb gave a snort. “No, I think it’s more than that.” He paused, searching for what he wanted to say. “Beem watches. He seems to notice things the other children do not. He’s observant.” 

“But, when he interacts with the other children,” Rex added, “he seems to be a part of their group and an outsider at the same time. He looks content with the others, but he still keeps to himself for the most part.”

Kallus eyed the Lasat and clone warily.

“Yeah…” Zeb huffed, “but it’s a shame he does. I think if he gave the other kids a chance, if he opened up a bit more, he’d find that he just…well…um…belongs.” 

_Karabast._ Zeb was sure he could have worded that better. He just liked these moments where Kallus was letting himself be a part of the crew–where he wasn’t guarded and walking on eggshells. If the man could only be that open back at the base, around the other rebels, maybe…

“I think Beem knows he belongs,” Kal replied, pausing briefly, “After all, he has very good friends here, and that makes all the difference in the universe.”

Zeb glanced at Kal, finding the man smiling back at him, and then Rex slung an arm over Kallus’ shoulder and ruffled the man’s hair. With a laugh, Kal shook the clone off.

“Come on boys,” Rex chuckled, “we’d better get back to the ship before Hera sends out a search party, and by search party I mean one cantankerous little droid.”

“Yeah,” Zeb agreed, “Wouldn’t mind getting back to get a bit of grub as well. After that game, I’m starving.”

As they discussed the day’s game, their walk back to the ship was slow, leisurely. Zeb was glad for the pace. He hadn’t realized how exhausting the game had been. Tactically, it was stupid to exert so much energy on something so frivolous when they were about to engage in another mission, but, if he had it to do over, Zeb still would have played pole-ball. He wasn’t sure about Rex and Kal, but sometimes he needed these reminders of what he was fighting for. 

They were about halfway to the ship when Chopper found them. 

The droid’s message from Hera was simple, yet urgent. Get back to the ship now–we have to leave.

Zeb asked Chopper what was happening, but the C1 unit’s only response was to turn and speed back toward the Ghost.

_Karabast…That couldn’t be good._


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting in the common room of the Ghost, Kallus reviewed the message yet again. 

 

_“Captain Elix Dane is willing to defect from the Empire. Subject is in danger of being discovered–requires extraction immediately._

_Current location: Kelada in the Anrid Cluster._

_Rendezvous: 36 standard hours from message timestamp, Kelada - Lorana’s Labyrinth cantina._

_Additional message: I personally vouch for Dane. He would never betray me. –Julia Lacer”_

 

Frustrated, Kallus set the datapad aside. 

Leaning back in his seat, he massaged his temples, trying to ease the throbbing ache in his head. Nearly 36 hours of staring at screens as he plotted and planed had not been kind to his body.

After Hera had summoned the Ghost crew back to the ship on Coonee, she’d shown them the message. They’d discussed their options, and, unanimously, they chose for the extraction of Elix Dane to be their final mission before returning to Yavin IV. The raid on the Imperial armor factory that Kallus had so meticulously planned had been shelved.

For his part, Kallus had not come to his decision to aid the potential defector lightly. 

During one of his early ISB investigations, he’d met Elix Dane, and, in Kallus’ opinion, the man had been emphatically unimpressive. 

A known drunkard, Dane was a plump, ruddy-faced slouch of a being. He seemed to have no regard for his duty and was constantly unloading his work onto his subordinates. Kallus had loathed working with Dane. 

It seemed preposterous that such a man had been allowed to keep his rank and place, but there were rumors that Elix had, long ago, been an Imperial assassin. Whatever he’d done for the Empire, it’d been enough to buy him a cushy, untouchable position on Kelada.

Ultimately, there was only one reason Kallus agreed to this mission–Julia Lacer. If she vouched for the man, if she wanted him retrieved, then, no matter his opinion of Elix, Kallus would see this mission completed. He owed Julia that much. 

Pulling Kallus from his thoughts, Zeb sulked into the room.

“I don’t like this.” The Lasat grumbled as he started to pace. “They should’ve been back by now, or they at least should’ve made contact.”

Kallus let out a soft murmur of agreement but otherwise kept silent. When necessary, he was exceptional at presenting a calm demeanor, but the internal churn of dread, worry and fear he was currently experiencing was threatening to shatter that composed appearance. 

Zeb was correct. Hera, Rex and Chopper were overdue to check in. 

Neither Kallus nor Zeb had been thrilled about being left behind on the Ghost for the rendezvous, but the final call had been Hera’s to make. 

“We should go after them.” Zeb paused his pacing to give Kallus a hard stare.

“Yes,” Kallus replied, “because the Lasat and the man with his image and hefty bounty plastered everywhere would really be able to blend in amongst the smugglers and _bounty hunters_ in a cantina on Kelada. If the others aren’t in danger, then they certainly would be upon our arrival.”

For as much as it bothered him, Kallus couldn’t help but agree that Hera made the right call in leaving them behind. They would’ve surely drawn too much attention.

“Yeah, well…” Zeb grumbled, “…it still doesn’t change the fact that they should’ve been back by now.”

Kallus nodded. 

He honestly couldn’t recall the last time his nerves felt this frayed waiting for someone to return from a mission. Detachment from others had been a way of life in the Empire. Emotional attachments were a distraction from one’s duties, and they brought the constant threat of pain and grief. Onderon had drilled that lesson into him. 

A tightness, a sense of helplessness settled into Kallus’ chest. _What if Hera and the others were in danger? Perhaps they had been captured? What if they had been killed?_

Driving away the growing panic, Kallus managed to find his voice. “Is it always like this?”

“Like this?” Zeb frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kallus shrugged, wishing he hadn’t let the question slip out. “Never mind.” 

Zeb step closer to the table, eyes narrowed.

Mentally and physically exhausted, Kallus knew this was a standoff he would not win. Dropping all pretenses of stoic calm, he let the worry and dread etch his expression as it chose. An understanding then seemed to cross Zeb’s face, and, after giving a soft sigh, the Lasat sat at the table.

“I hate staying behind on missions,” Zeb admitted, “the waiting drives me mad…and the not knowing. I hate not knowing what’s happening to the others…not knowing if they need me…not knowing if they will come back.” His gaze went distant, and his voice softened. “It’s always like that–every time I’m left behind.” 

The honesty in Zeb’s voice, the vulnerability in his expressions was too much. Kallus averted his gaze, staring absently at the table for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. Friendship during times of battle carried many weighty burdens, and yet…

“The crew was probably considerably worried about you when you were lost on the ice moon of Geonosis,” Kallus said, smiling to himself. “I watched them as they retrieved you. That happiness and warmth they had…” He paused, lost in the memory for a moment. “Before you were found, they were worried, just as we are now, but paying that price is well worth it…so that you have the opportunity for that kind of return, that kind of joy.”

Kallus glanced up, finding Zeb grinning back at him.

“I had no idea you were so sentimental,” Zeb replied. “I take it your rescue from the ice moon was very stiff and by the books. I’m sure the Empire has a whole Imperial rescue protocol.”

“They do.” Kallus’ answer was short, his sudden sullen tone surprising even himself.

Smile gone, Zeb shifted in his seat. “What happened?”

Kallus shook his head. “Nothing…just standard protocol…that’s all.”

Brow arched, Zeb pushed the question again. “Which is?”

“The Empire exhausted the resources allotted for the search and left,” Kallus replied. “I was fortunate that a passing trading vessel happened upon the distress signal and retrieved me.” 

“How long were you on the moon before they found you?” Zeb asked.

“I was picked up before nightfall,” he answered quietly, recalling how he’d made his peace with the impending death a night alone, without the warmth of the Lasat beside him, would bring. The trading vessel had found him near dusk, just as the cold was lulling him to sleep. The warmth of the lone meteorite, held close to his chest, had been the only thing that had kept him alive.

Zeb fidgeted, a low grumble emanating from him as he seemed to struggle with some inner conflict.

“I’m sorry,” Zeb blurted out finally. “We should have…”

“No,” Kallus was quick to halt the apology. He’d known it was coming. It was the reason he’d not spoken about his escape from the ice moon to any of the Ghost crew. “You have nothing to feel badly about. I made the choice to stay. I placed my faith where I should not. What happened after you left was my own doing.”

Suddenly, there was a crackle of static from Zeb’s com, followed by Hera’s voice.

“ _Spector 2 to Spector 4, we’re on our way back._ ”

The relief that washed over Kallus was amazing as the built up tension seemed to melt from his body. 

Zeb let out a blissful sigh before reaching for his com. “Copy that, Spector 2. You have any luck?”

“ _Negative. Dane was a no show, but one of the barkeeps passed us some new information. We’ll discuss it when we get back. We…have a decision to make. Spector 2 out._ ”

Somehow, the feeling of relief quickly ebbed and Kallus had a new sinking feeling. Whatever they needed to discuss wasn’t going to be good.


	5. Chapter 5

Movement uncomfortably restricted in the Stormtrooper armor, Kallus slowed as he neared the next junction of halls. Peering around the corner, he was relieved to find the corridor empty–for the moment. It was a small stroke of luck but one he’d take. 

Meeting up with Rex and Chopper meant he still had to get to the other side of the compound. The plan _had_ been for the three to stick together as they looked for Elix Dane, but rebel plans had a way of going awry. Kallus couldn’t fathom how the rebels managed to continually best him for so long with such poor luck.

After infiltrating the Imperial compound and donning disguises, Kallus, Rex and Chopper had stumbled upon a young Imperial officer barking commands at a group of factory workers. Spotting the two Stormtroopers, the Lieutenant was quick to snap out orders – directing Kallus to escort the workers to an assemble area on the far side of the compound, and sending Rex to find any stragglers in the speeder bike assembly area. Chopper, who managed to go unnoticed, simply wandered away.

Thankfully, for this mission, Kallus had plotted for every contingency he could imagine. He took it as a bit of personal challenge to see these rebel missions succeeded as flawlessly as possible. 

After escorting the workers, he managed to slip away from the growing crowd and was currently heading back across the compound.

He dodged patrols as he went. The last thing he could afford was to be roped into another menial task, and refusing a command would undoubtedly blow his cover. 

His progress was slow, painfully so, but, eventually, he found Rex and Chopper waiting in the storage room Kallus had designated as their assembly point should they become separated. 

“About time you got here,” Rex scoffed. “I was beginning to wonder if you were captured.” 

Helmet tucked in the crook of his arm, the clone shifted about, looking as if he were trying to find the most comfortable stance to take in the ill-fitting Stormtrooper armor. 

“That Lieutenant had me escorting factory workers to one of the loading docks on the far side of the compound. Apparently there is some kind of gathering taking place…a workers’ appreciation something or other. ” Kallus replied, taking his own helmet off. It felt rather refreshing to be free of the blasted thing. 

“Rex shook his head. “ _Workers’ appreciation?_ That doesn’t sound right, not from the Empire.” 

Chopper was quick to chime in, reporting that, after accessing the compound’s system and doing a search, the C1 unit found no mention of a workers’ appreciation event or of any logged reports or mention of Elix Dane for the last standard week. Dane had seemingly disappeared.

The little droid gave one last string of warbled chirps and then stared silently up at the two men.

“Yes, Chop,” Kallus sighed, “It is probably a trap. We should…”

His sentence was cut short as everyone’s attention snapped to the storage room door as it opened. Both Kallus and Rex were quick to raise their blasters to greet whoever had been unlucky enough to discover them. 

“Easy,” Zeb shouted. “It’s just me.” 

Kallus frowned and lowered his blaster. “ _Orrelios?_ You are supposed to be on the Ghost. How did you even get here?”

If Kallus hadn’t known better he’d think the rebels were trying to sabotage their own missions. How did Hera expect them to get through the compound with a Lasat in tow? They couldn’t very well cram him into Stormtrooper armor. 

Ignoring the inquires, Zeb motioned them toward the door, his bo-rifle at the ready. “We need to get out of here. The Chimaera just entered orbit around Kelada.” He paused, his worried gaze meeting Kallus’. 

“Thrawn is here.” 

The small tendril of dread that had been nagging Kallus since this mission began suddenly turned into a chasm of adrenaline fueled fear. For a moment, it was overwhelming, screaming for action, but he calmed the emotion, stilled the fight or flight response and began rationally plotting their escape. Panic would do them no good.

“If Thrawn knows we are here,” Kallus began, “then I would presume he knows the reason we are here as well–which might be why there is no trace of Elix Dane. Dane was either setting us up, or the Empire has already dealt with his betrayal. Either way, his retrieval is no longer our top concern.”

Kallus planned on having a very long conversation with Julie once the Ghost reached Yavin IV. 

Zeb nodded. “So, do we stick to the original exit plan?”

The three looked to the C1 unit expectantly, and the droid gave a quick, indignant response.

“Well,” Rex said with a tight grin, “we just needed to be sure you got the explosives rigged. Without that distraction, we’d probably be easy pickings on those speeder bikes.”

“We’ll have to act fast.” Kallus put on his helmet and stepped toward the door. “Thrawn will be expecting us to flee by any means at hand. I’m sure the speeder factory will not be overlooked as a source for transport. Our only advantage at the moment is that Thrawn doesn’t know we are aware of his presence here and that we’ve given up our mission. If we are lucky, Thrawn will divert some of his troopers to areas that we’d most likely proceed to in search of Elix Dane.”

_Luck…_ Kallus hated relying on luck. It seldom seemed to be on his side.

The escape plan had seemed solid enough. They would procure speeder bikes in the factory. There were always a few set aside for testing at the end of the assemble line. It would be a straight shot from the factory to the compound’s western gate, and with the carefully placed explosions as a distraction, and the element of surprise, the speeders should be able to slip away. After that, it was a matter of getting some distance between themselves and the compound and then radioing Hera for a pick up. 

It had seemed like a solid plan, but with Thrawn involved now, Kallus could see too many flaws, too many areas the Chiss could exploit. 

Rex gave a brief grumble and then put on his helmet before he turned to Zeb and Chopper. “Kal and I will take the lead and make sure the way is clear. You two, follow close behind. This may turn into a mess real quick.”

The group moved quickly to the speeder bike factory. Kallus was tense, expecting to find conflict around every corner, but he was wrong. Their trek was quiet, uninterrupted, and that only put the ex-agent on edge even more. 

Inside the factory, the four moved hesitantly, still waiting for an ambush. 

Tools were strewn about in a haphazard fashion, as if the workers had hastily been escorted out, and the large factory door to the west of the building was up, leaving a rather convenient exit point. 

It took only a few moments to find the working speeders at the end of the line. There were three with sidecars and four without. Rex selected one with a sidecar and Chopper situated himself in the passenger position. Zeb and Kallus each chose a bike as well. 

“Get ready, Chop,” Kallus said, eyeing the factory door, trying to calm the pounding of his heart, “As soon as we are outside, set off the explosives.” He paused, looking to Zeb and then Rex. “Good luck.”

Steeling his nerves, Kallus turned his speeder toward the door. Rex started off first, with Zeb and then Kal trailing. They had just about made it to outside when the first of the blaster fire started. 

Concentration focused on the exit, Kallus didn’t look back. He already knew what he would find. The factory had been an ambush. Stormtroopers had been lying in wait, but why they remained hidden so long Kallus couldn’t understand. If they had started blasting before the rebels had located the speeders then perhaps…

The thought was cut short as Kallus’ bike gave a violent jolt. He swerved, muscles straining as he tried to wrestle the bike back on course, but he could already feel the balance was too far off. Another tremor rocked the speeder and Kallus felt himself flying through the air, his grip on the bike lost. 

The world became a disorienting swirl of color and sound as Kallus hit the ground and rolled. Nearby, he could hear his speeder come to a crashing halt–it was echoed by the explosions happening outside. 

Laying on the floor facedown, Kallus let one loan groan escape before he gingerly reached up with a shaky hand and removed his Stormtrooper helmet. Shock and adrenaline hampered his attempt to assess his condition, but he felt fairly certain nothing was broken. 

Sitting up, he looked to the factory door, alarmed to find it lowering. It was already over halfway down. 

Outside, weaving through blaster fire, Zeb was on his speeder racing back toward the factory. Brow creased, eyes intense, mouth contorted in a deep frown, the Lasat’s gaze was fixed on Kal.

_He’s coming back…_ the thought brought a warm elation to Kallus, but it died quickly as he realized the rescue was coming too late – the door would close before Zeb could make it back. 

Kallus stood, his leg shaking beneath him, and started for the door. It was a feeble attempt at escape, and he knew it. 

Suddenly, he realized Zeb was frantically yelling something, but his voice was lost in the distance and chaos outside. Kallus blinked, trying to decipher the message.

Why was it so quiet inside the factory? His addled mind was finally making the connections it should have made earlier. Turning, he found about two dozen Stormtroopers slowly stalking up on him. Blasters had been put away, and shock sticks had been taken out. 

Kallus took an unsure step back, knowing he hadn’t the strength to fight them all but also determined not to be captured alive. 

Behind him, he heard the factory door seal itself shut. Alone, he prepared to fight.


	6. Chapter 6

Kallus reached to his side and felt a twist of panic as he discovered his blaster was gone. He scanned the nearby vicinity, hoping that it hadn’t been thrown too far during the crash, but there was no sign of the weapon. 

Empty handed, he backpedaled, warily watching the advancing Stormtroopers and matching their speed. If they encircled him, he had no chance, but if he could get his back to the closed factory door, he’d have at least one side shielded from attacks. 

Eventually, his heel struck the door and Kallus was forced to stop his slow retreat. He kept his gaze moving–watching the front row of troopers, trying to anticipate whom amongst them would be daring enough to strike first. 

If the troopers had been using their blasters, they would have felled Kallus already, but, seeing as all blasters were holstered, they must have been given orders to use shock sticks only. The Empire would want him alive, and although the blasters could be set to stun, it would be far too easy for a single trooper to _forget_ to adjust the setting and kill their target instead of incapacitating them. It had been a problem in the past.

Kallus heard the solitary murmur of _‘traitor,’_ sound from the advancing troopers but, save for the one lone remark, the group remained silent.

He shifted his weight ever so slightly, getting into a defensive stance. The air felt suffocatingly hot, and Kallus could feel sweat starting to trickle down his brow. 

Slowly, the troopers formed a semi-circle around him, but they kept their distance, each nervously holding their shock sticks at the ready. Kallus smirked. They knew him, either by word of mouth or personal experience, and they were hesitant to attack. He could use that. 

After a long, silent standoff, three troopers stepped forward, separating themselves from the others. They attacked with impressive unity, seamlessly timing their strikes, but they didn’t take into account that the armor Kallus wore, just like their own, was shock resistant. 

It was a rookie mistake.

Kallus blocked the blows with his arm, letting the electric tips of the shock sticks bounce off the armor on his forearm. Then, with a couple well placed punches, he had two of the troopers stumbling back, and the third dropped to the floor unconscious. 

Stormtrooper armor provided a lot of protection, but it was not without its weak points. The trick was knowing _exactly_ where to strike.

Almost instantly, another wave of attacks came as five more troopers stepped forward. 

Using the fighting techniques he’d developed with Zeb and Rex, Kallus gradually picked off each new opponent. He felt a twinge of surprise at how exceedingly beneficial his training with the clone and Lasat had been. It was so easy now to see the flaws in the Imperial fighting style, and he used them fully to his advantage. 

Still, Kallus couldn’t ignore the fact he was getting more winded by the moment. He wouldn’t be able to keep the pace up forever. They had the numbers. He would, eventually, be overtaken. Yet there was still a pang of hope – a spark of rebellious determination that kept him fighting. Perhaps his crew would find a way to retrieve him. Maybe Rex and Zeb would be able to…

A trooper lunged forward and managed to land a strike with the shock stick on Kallus’ exposed neck. 

Muscles convulsing, pain searing through his body, Kallus dropped to the floor. As soon as the electricity stopped coursing through him, and even though his limps only sluggishly obeyed him, he managed to claw a blaster off the unconscious trooper he’d fallen beside. 

Disoriented, desperate, he fired wildly into the sea of white that was descending upon him. 

There were yells, troopers collapsing around him, and Kallus managed to get back to onto his feet. It was a difficult movement as the ache in his body began to penetrate the numbness provided by his initial rush of adrenaline. His back ached and his right knee throbbed, but he kept moving. He had no choice.

Then, from the chaos came a flash of blue, and all Kallus could comprehend was a dull pain in his right hand and the fact that his weapon was gone. Instantly, he dropped into a defensive stance, ready for the onslaught that was sure to come.

However, no rushed attack followed after he had been disarmed. Instead, half the remaining troopers set about hauling off their wounded, and the other half, about seven, formed a half circle around Kallus… _and_ Thrawn.

Breathing hard, Kallus felt his muscles tighten and his heart-rate jump as he stared at his new opponent. Only ten feet away, the Chiss stood tall, straight–not in a fighting stance at all as he carefully eyed the ex-agent. 

“You are defeated,” Thrawn stated. “You cannot win.”

Kallus forced a small smile. “Can’t I? Rebels have a way of turning the tables. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

Still, even as he said it, Kallus could feel his hope of escape fading. He was alone and outmatched. No one was coming back for him. They couldn’t. 

Memories of his capture on Lothal surfaced in his mind. The helplessness, the fear, the pain…

“I admire your perseverance,” Thrawn said, his gaze shifting to the wounded troopers still being hauled away, “and your fighting style has improved remarkably. I noted some Lasat moves as well as those favored by the Clones.” Those hauntingly red eyes fixated back on Kallus. “You have used your time outside of the Empire adequately, but, I’m afraid, it does not change the fact you’ve aligned yourself with the wrong side.”

“Is this when you try and coax me back into service with the Empire,” Kallus replied smugly, glad that his voice sounded so strong and sure even as his confidence was slowly crumbling.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” the Chiss replied flatly. “You will not willingly serve the Empire again, but, I must admit, the reason behind your refusal eludes me.”

Kallus gave no hesitations with his answer. “Perhaps you should ask Morad Sumar.” He was sure the Chiss wouldn’t recall the man.

For a moment, Thrawn seemed to mull over the answer. His nearly impassive visage strained just slightly in thought. 

“Or I could ask Maketh Tua,” Thrawn countered.

Kallus cringed at that, any righteousness he felt over those still serving the Empire withered away. He’d been no better than any of them. Why did he think it right of him to question their actions when he had a career of grief and bloodshed behind him?

“I…I regret what happened to Tua,” Kallus answered, letting his tone convey the honesty of his words. “Do you regret what happened to Morad?” 

“Any loss of life is regrettable.” Thrawn paused and tucked his arms behind his back, as if showing Kallus that he had no plans on immediately attacking. “But, after all avenues were explored, the decision made saved the most lives. Additionally, Morad technically died by his own hand. Had he not sabotaged the speeder bike, it would not have exploded with him on it. Was his death any worse than a Trooper’s would have been?”

Kallus shook his head. “No one would push the bike to keep going after it starting malfunctioning that badly. You forced Morad’s death.”

Thrawn’s gaze narrowed, his mouth twisting in a faint scowl. “Thirty-seven people have died because of faulty bikes from that factory on Lothal. That count rises significantly if the faulty AT-AT’s are included. I was sent to find and execute any saboteurs within the facility. However, I concluded that making an example of one of the saboteurs would be enough to deter others. My decision did not please the Empire, but it did halt the production of defective machines.” 

The logic of Thrawn’s actions was easy enough to follow, but it didn’t change the fact that the Empire had initially sent him to wipe out a great portion of the factory workers. Kallus had witnessed similar scenarios in the past, and although he was not so naïve to think the Rebellion had their hands fully clean of blood, they had far more reluctance toward mass slaughters–he could not say the same for the Empire.

“I was surprised that the Rebellion sent the Ghost to find Elix Dane,” Thrawn said, taking a single step forward. 

Kallus tensed, but the Chiss advanced no further.

“This snare had been set for someone else…an ex-Imperial Assassin.” Thrawn paused, his eyes sweeping over Kallus, as if he was gauging the man’s reaction. “It is rumored that they worked with Dane, but only brief mentions of their code name, Death Shadow, are recorded in any official paperwork.”

Remaining silent, Kallus waited, hoping Thrawn would share more, but unwilling to ask the Chiss to continue. Showing interest would only reveal that Kallus knew, or thought he knew, this Death Shadow.

“The assignments that no other assassin would take, usually those of a morally questionable nature, would go to the Death Shadow.” Thrawn paused, his gaze distant, his focus on something high in the rafters. “Men, women…children–there was no one the Death Shadow wouldn’t take on as a target–so long as they refused to join the Empire and were force sensitive. Then, one day the Death Shadow vanished.” Thrawn’s gaze returned to Kallus. “I have my suspicions that this particular assassin has somehow found sanctuary amongst the rebels. I fear that their talents are currently being used by the Rebel Alliance–though they would be quite aged by now.”

Kallus thought back to the compassionate woman who’d guided him through the Rebel Court proceedings, who’d encouraged him and helped him see himself as something other than a monster for doing the Empire’s bidding. He couldn’t imagine Julia as an Imperial assassin. She’d said she’d done worse things for the Empire than Kallus had, but this? 

“Unbeknownst to the Empire,” Thrawn said, breaking Kallus from his thoughts, “Elix Dane had kept in touch with this Death Shadow. Their correspondence would never have been discovered if not for Dane’s untimely demise.” He tilted his head at Kallus, “And before you ask, the Empire did not assassinate Dane. The man had many unsavory vices, and, in the end, it was his own indulgences that were his downfall. While working on a message to Death Shadow, Elix Dane’s heart gave out and he died with his secrets laid out on the screen before him.”

_Karabast…_

Kallus clenched his jaw, biting back the frustration that was boiling inside him. One unfinished message had been their downfall. 

“The situation aligned itself to the Empire’s favor,” Thrawn continued. “The officer who had discovered Elix Dane was astute enough to realize the importance of the message and that neither he nor anyone else stationed at the factory possessed the means to pursue the matter. He had, however, made my acquaintance when the Chimera had been called to Kelada some months back, and, recalling how proficiently I’d handled the smuggling ring during my first visit to his planet, the officer promptly called me to assist in this matter.”

In his peripheral vision, Kallus could see a shock stick near his feet. Slowly, not daring to take his eyes off Thrawn, he bent down and picked it up. The Stormtroopers reacted, ready to rush forward, but a single wave of Thrawn’s hand had them standing down. 

Apparently, the Chiss wasn’t concerned with his adversary having a weapon, and since he hadn’t the protection of shock proof armor, a blow landed would be felt. It should have been a major advantage, but there was something about the way Thrawn so readily let him take up the weapon that had Kallus on edge. Something wasn’t right. 

Composed, calm, Thrawn eyed the weapon in Kallus’ hands. “After the officer here informed me of his findings,” he said, as if the shock stick didn’t register as a threat at all, “it was easy enough to craft a new message and send it along to Elix’s contact. Tracking the message would be impossible, but baiting the recipient was well within my means.” 

Kallus shrugged. He knew the rest. It was exactly what he would have done as an ISB Agent if the information had been given to him. 

Even with as interesting as the information Thrawn had divulged, with the ache of his body starting to take hold, Kallus couldn’t afford to stand around any longer. If he had any chance of beating Thrawn, he had to get moving–soon.

“Have I ever told you,” Kallus smirked, “that you talk too much?” 

Thrawn smiled. It was, perhaps, the most unnerving thing the Chiss could have done at the moment. There shouldn’t have been anything particular sinister about the gesture. It was a soft, kind smile that honestly seemed genuine, but, on Thrawn, it seemed so unnatural. 

“I believe you have,” Thrawn answered, “I presume you’d like to begin our hand-to-hand combat now?”

Having no witty quip to add, Kallus merely nodded and prepared for the onslaught that was to come.

Thrawn’s tactics weren’t what Kallus had expected though. The Chiss came at him directly with a sloppy attack that left his midsection open. Instinct took over and Kallus used the opportunity to land a blow to Thrawn’s stomach with the shock stick. A faint hiss sounded. It was something Kallus recognized but couldn’t place. 

Instantly, Thrawn staggered back three steps and fell to his knees. Kallus lunged forward, ready to strike the Chiss again and render him immobile, but a warm, numb sensation had set into his hands, and the shock stick slipped from his grip. 

Kallus swallowed down the lump of dread growing in his throat as he watched the weapon clatter to the floor. Then, his legs started to shake, straining to keep him upright.

He blinked – his vision blurring slightly as he fell to his knees and then immediately plopped down into a sitting position. Weakness spread throughout his body as he struggled to remain upright. 

Panic taking root, he looked to Thrawn, and the terrible truth of the situation came to light. The Chiss was on his feet again, looking as if he’d already recovered from the shock. Staring down at Kallus, he held a hypo-syringe in one hand.

“ _What…?_ ” Kallus frowned, startled by the hoarse whisper that was his voice. 

“What did I inject you with?” Thrawn replied. “You needn’t worry. It was only a sedative – a strong one. Grand Moff Tarkin insisted that you be brought to him as undamaged as possible. Keeping you sedated seemed like the most prudent means to transport you. When you awake, you will be back on Coruscant.”

His vision blurring again, Kallus felt himself sway and then tilt toward the ground. The impact never came though. Instead, hands caught him, cradling him carefully into a laying position. 

He focused his gaze to find Thrawn knelt beside him.

The Chiss let out a very faint sigh. “I underestimated you, Kallus. During your time as Fulcrum, you deceived me far longer than most would have been able. That was… _impressive._ ” Thrawn stood, but kept his eyes fixed on Kallus. “If the circumstances were different, I believe I would have found you to be a great asset. We could have worked together to better the Empire from within, but you have clearly made your choice.”

Thrawn turned and started to stride away, calling out for the Stormtrooper to bind the prisoner and bring him to the Chiss’ personal shuttle. 

Roughly rolled onto his belly, Kallus’ eyes watered from the plume of dust the movement created. He couldn’t focus on the troopers, but he could see blurs of white surrounding him. They yanked his arms back and he could hear the faint click of binders shutting. 

Helpless, weak, he lay there as his grief and fear took hold. There was nothing more he could do. He was spent, defeated. 

Unlike at his capture on Lothal, there was a different sorrow that pulled at Kallus now. He felt a desperate longing for the safety of the Ghost. He hadn’t had that before – a place that felt like a home. He wanted to be sitting in the common room, reading reports, listening to Rex and Zeb laugh and talk as they played Dejarik. 

He closed his eyes, knowing the sedative would soon render him unconscious. His thoughts lingered on his crewmates, wondering if they’d made it out of the compound unscathed.

The warm hold of the drug took over, his thoughts scattering, his fear dissolving into the darkness of sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Zeb started his speeder bike, feeling a wave of relief as the machine readily purred to life. With the luck they’d been having, he expected to find no working speeders at the end of the assembly line. Of course, just because the bikes started didn’t mean they wouldn’t blow up as they got up to speed. Zeb only hoped that Kallus’ reports had been correct and there weren’t any solitary rebels in the area with sabotage on their minds. 

A faint creak, slight, almost inaudible sounded from somewhere within the factory. Zeb swiveled his ears, straining to hear more, to sort out what danger could be lurking, but the seemingly abandoned factory had gone silent once again. 

The sense of danger didn’t fade though, and Zeb felt his hackles rise as he cast his gaze about in search of hidden enemies. Something was wrong. He could feel it. 

Beside him, Kallus shifted on his bike, and Zeb’s attention slowly turned to the ex-agent.

It was strange seeing the man decked out in Stormtrooper gear. Having Rex in the gear was bad enough, but Kallus still had so much Imperial stiffness to him. He looked a little too authentic. It was… _unsettling._

“Get ready, Chop,” Kallus said, his voice distorted through the helmet. “As soon as we are outside, set off the explosives.” He paused, tilting his head toward Zeb and then Rex. “Good luck.” 

Atop his bike, Rex forced a grim smile, and Chopper, from his sidecar beside the clone, merely shifted his gaze from Kallus to Zeb. It was never a good sign when the little droid started to look nervous.

Zeb opened his mouth, intending to offer some quip about how they could handle this, how they’d handled worse in the past, but he couldn’t force the words out. Something was off about this place–some danger was hanging over them, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. With Thrawn involved, this wasn’t going to be easy.

Then, Kallus and Rex turned their bikes toward the exit. 

By the time Zeb angled his speeder into position, the clone had started off. In a few short seconds he would breach the exit and Chopper would trigger the explosions. There was no turning back. 

After uttering one last curse under his breath, Zeb followed, pushing his bike to full speed as quickly as possible so that he could catch up to Rex, but he allowed himself a glance back to ensure Kallus followed. 

Kallus had started off, but Zeb didn’t like how far behind them the man was, and the fact that a thick volley of blaster fire started really wasn’t helping the matter either. 

From somewhere within the factory, at least two dozen Stormtroopers suddenly appeared. Luckily, the bucketheads were lousy shots.

Zeb turned his attention back to the exit ahead. They just had to keep moving, as long as they could keep moving, they’d make it out of the compound. 

The large factory door gave a low squeal– the gears soft clatter sounding as the metal barrier started to lower.

Only a split second of alarm triggered in Zeb, and then he realized the door was moving too slowly to be of any real concern. All it would succeed in doing was locking the bucketheads in.

They were almost to the door when the rhythm of the speeder bikes changed. In the hum of straining engines, there was the sudden groan and clatter of metal coming to an abrupt halt. 

Just as he made it outside, Zeb glanced back. Explosions, triggered by Chopper, sounded from nearby, but Zeb’s attention was fully on the lone figure lying on the factory floor. The Stormtrooper armor was dusty and scuffed and a smoldering, twisted speeder bike lay a fair distance from the individual. The figure moved slightly. A single arm reaching up to shakily slide the trooper helmet off. 

With his face exposed, Kallus’ dazed, darting gaze was wide, revealing how disorientated the man surely felt.

Zeb cursed and turned his bike, hearing a shout of surprise from Rex. The blaster fire was getting thicker. Chopper’s explosions were only meant to be a momentary distraction. They didn’t have much time left.

Kallus sat up, his movements jerky, uncoordinated. The ex-agent eyed the lowering door in alarm. Already it was half way down and picking up speed as it went.

Dodging blaster fire, Zeb pushed the bike as hard as he could, but he knew…He wouldn’t get to Kal in time, and yet he couldn’t turn away. He couldn’t leave him.

Kallus looked up, the fear and anxiety draining from his expression as his eyes settled on Zeb. For a split second, the man held a look of such relief, and then he too must have done the calculations. This rescue would not reach him in time. Zeb watched the man’s elation melt as dread set in once more.

Behind Kallus, out of his line of sight, around two dozen Stormtroopers had emerged from their cover from within the factory. Slowly, they crept forward, shock sticks at the ready as they advanced on their target. 

Kallus stood, his wobbly legs looking ready to give out at any moment, but the man forced himself forward. Zeb clenched his jaw, watching each struggled step.

“Behind you,” Zeb bellowed, leaning forward on his bike, as if that would amplify his voice. “Look behind you, Kal.”

Slowing his pace, Kallus blinked. Eyes glossy with shock and confusion, he hesitated a moment and then turned his back to Zeb–so that he faced the troopers. 

The door lowered further and Zeb could only see Kallus’ legs. Still facing his enemy, the man took one unsteady step back, and then the door sealed shut.

So focused on the scene before him, Zeb almost didn’t turn his speeder in time. Pulling hard to the left, sparks flew as his bike skimmed the door. 

With a growled curse, he veered wildly into the compound’s yard, looking for Rex and Chopper, but he could find no sight of them. He hoped they’d more sense than he had and had used the opportunity for escape. With both the explosions and Zeb’s race through the compound as a distraction, the other two should have easily been able to get away. Maybe they would be able to find help and return. 

Zeb winced as a blaster bolt nearly grazed his left ear. He had to make a decision–try to make it through the gate and escape this madness or continue to be a kriffin’ fool and probably get himself killed. 

His thoughts screamed to choose escape. It was the logical choice. He even started to turn the bike toward the gate, but then he changed course back to the factory. 

Muttering under his breath every curse that came to mind, he reached into his pouch pocket, pulling out some of the small round smoke bombs Sabine had made him. He hated using them. The things smelled awful. The smoke burned his eyes and dulled his sense of smell, but they would provide him just enough cover to disappear.

He raced along the wall of the factory until he found what he’d been looking for. Tossing the smoke bombs down, he drew in one last deep breath and held it as the smoke billowed up around him. Then, with one break-neck leap, he sprang from the moving bike and grabbed hold of a pipe running vertically up the factory’s wall.

Eyes watering, lungs burning–begging him to draw in a breath, Zeb climbed. 

He could hear his speeder continue on, crashing loudly somewhere below, but he didn’t look down. The smoke would only last so long, and he had to get as high as possible, out of sight if he could, before the bucketheads looked up.

Hauling himself over the roof’s edge, Zeb was panting hard now–the horrible sulfur taste of the smoke bomb lingering in his mouth. He suppressed his urge to cough and carefully chanced a glance down at the scene below.

Troopers were running about. Only thin wisps of smoke remained. A few bucketheads stopped to inspect the mangled remains of Zeb’s speeder, as if they were desperately hoping to find his body hidden within the meager crash. 

That’s when Zeb spotted them.

Tucked nearly out of sight in a grouping of cargo crates, Rex and Chopper were hunkered down.

“ _Karabast…_ ”

Zeb felt his heart drop. Those blooming idiots didn’t leave. They stayed and now they were all in danger. If they managed to get out of this, Hera was going to kill all of them for being such imbeciles.

Rex had his eyes fixed on Zeb, and the Lasat could just barely make out the wide smile the clone gave him, and then the man and droid slunk back out of view. 

Impossible odds of escape, no plan, everyone separated, one member captured…yep, this mission was going about as well as any of their other missions.

Muttering to himself, Zeb explored the rooftop, hoping to find some entrance into the factory. He was not that lucky though. The only opening he found was a series of skylights that were much too small for him to squeeze his bulk through. He could, however, peer down into the factory below, and what he found instantly had him letting out a low growl.

Kallus had his back to the large factory door. Thrawn stood before the rebel with seven Stormtroopers surrounding the two. Even from so high above, Zeb could see that Kallus’ body heave with each breath he took in. The man was exhausted, but his fight was far from over. 

It appeared that Thrawn and Kallus were talking, but, from so far off, Zeb couldn’t overhear their conversation. He leaned in, as if a few inches would make a difference, and suddenly Thrawn was looking up, scanning the rafters.

Zeb pulled back, aware that he must have blocked the light of day streaming into the room, drawing the Chiss’ attention. He strode over to a different skylight, waited a few moments and then carefully peeked into the factory. 

Thrawn’s attention was back on Kallus, and the two were still conversing. Zeb watched, not daring to blink, hardly able to breath.

Kallus managed to slowly pick up a shock stick that had been on the ground near him without causing the Chiss to leap into action. 

_Good, get a weapon…that will help…a little…_

It wouldn’t be enough, not when he was winded and possibly wounded. Even in his peak of health, Thrawn had beaten him. A lone shock stick would hardly make them equals in a fight. 

Zeb tensed as Thrawn sprang at Kallus, but the Chiss’ moves seemed sloppy, almost intentionally so. Kal landed a strike easily and Thrawn managed to take a couple of steps before crumpling to the ground.

Kallus was quick to move forward, body tensed, ready to land another blow, but something was wrong. He teetered slightly, the shock baton falling from his grasp before he reached the Chiss. In moments, the ex-agent sank to the floor, sitting, confusion and fear washing over his face.

Zeb leaned closer, a throaty growl emitting from deep within him. 

Thrawn was on his feet again, standing over Kal. It took Zeb a moment to register that the Chiss held a hypo-syringe in one hand, that he’d used the sloppy, rushed attack as a distraction to administer… _whatever_ he had to Kal. 

Kallus swayed, the last of his energy obviously spent, but Thrawn crouched down, catching the man before his head would impact the hard floor. The Chiss lowered Kal to the ground, rose and then motioned toward the Stormtroopers.

As Thrawn walked away, the troopers came forward, roughly flipping Kallus onto his stomach and tugging his arms behind his back. They put him in binders, though Zeb was sure, at this point, the man was already unconscious. Thrawn probably wasn’t willing to take any chances after Kal had escaped from him near Atollon. 

The troopers grabbed Kallus by the shoulders and started dragging him across the dusty floor. Zeb tracked them, moving from skylight to skylight until he found himself at the edge of the building. They exited from a small door, hauling the unconscious man into the open. 

For a split second, Zeb considered launching himself off the rooftop and tackling the troopers, but they weren’t the only enemy nearby. Others would be on him instantly. In the end, that surprise attack would only get him killed or captured.

_Karabast…_

He watched them head in the direction of the shuttle pads. Thrawn probably had his private transport there waiting. If that ship left with Kal on it, they might never get him back.

Quickly, Zeb circled the building, carefully searching the compound below. Finally, he found what he was looking for – an area devoid of trooper activity. Using his opportunity before it vanished, he hefted himself over the edge of the building and began climbing down. 

As soon as he felt the ground beneath his feet, he was moving, running in the direction he’d last seen Kal. He’d stumbled upon a couple of troopers, but he was quick to grab them by their helmets and bash their heads together. Not wasting a moment, he leapt over them as they crumpled to the floor.

The insanity of his frantic, haphazard rescue wasn’t lost on Zeb. He could feel the overwhelming odds of failure growing with each step he took, and yet he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t just let Kallus be taken into the torment that surely awaited him. 

Rounding a corner, Zeb found himself standing before four Stormtroopers. Behind them, Thrawn stood near a shuttle. The back door to the ship was open, and within it were two Deathtroopers holding a slumped Kallus. 

With no time to think, Zeb sprang forward, tackling two of the Stormtrooper. He managed to incapacitate the two, but the jolt of a shock stick in his back had him writhing in pain. Though his muscles spasmed and burned, he forced himself up, and managed to launch his bulk at the two remaining Stormtroopers. It only took a couple punches to still them both.

Panting for breath, shaking, Zeb got back to his feet and turned his gaze to Thrawn. The Chiss stood, arm raised, blaster leveled at the Lasat.

“You _were_ an admirable foe.” Thrawn said quietly, his intent clear.

What the Chiss failed to notice though, and what Zeb’s surprised gasp almost gave away, was the small droid, that had been hiding in the shadow of the shuttle, was now speeding forward with this shock arm out.

Chopper must have had his shocker set to high, because the Chiss’ body instantly tensed and contorted as he barred his teeth, a gurgled, strangled groan escaping him. As the droid pulled back, Thrawn collapsed, and, in the shuttle, one of the Deathtroopers turned his blaster on his comrade and fired.

Zeb blinked. His dazed mind unable to comprehend how this turn of good fortune had occurred. 

The lone Deathtrooper gingerly set Kallus aside and waved to Zeb. 

“Get your get purple, hairy butt in here before the whole compound realizes what’s happened!”

_Rex?_

Chopper gave an angry string of chirps, ramming himself into Thrawn one last time before turning and heading up the ramp into the shuttle. 

Shedding his Deathtrooper helmet, Rex grabbed the other Deathtrooper by the arm and hauled him from the shuttle. 

“Sorry, bud,” Rex chuckled, “We need to travel light.” Here the clone turned back toward Zeb. “I was kind of being serious about us getting a move on.”

Zeb started forward, picking up his pace when a new round of blaster fire started up behind him. By the time he was in the shuttle, hitting the controls for the door, Rex was already in the pilot seat lifting them off.

The ride was less than smooth, but, taking into account how much fire was being directed at them, Zeb just thanked the Force that they made it out at all. After checking to make sure Kal wasn’t serious injured, and removing the binders from the unconscious man, Zeb took a seat next to Rex.

“So…How exactly did you and Chop manage that?” Zeb asked.

“What?” Rex grinned. “I just thought I’d look good in black. It’s rather slimming, you know.” 

Zeb chuckled. If not now, he would hear the harrowing tale from Rex at some point. He was sure of it.

The smile faded from Rex’s face as he glanced back at Kallus. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Zeb answered with a shrug, “a bit banged up, and knocked out from whatever Thrawn pumped into him, but he’ll be okay. I imagine he’ll be out for quite a while.”

“I thought…” The clone paused, his words soft, strained. “I thought we were going to lose him back there, and…I kept picturing what was going to happen to him. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

Rex went silent, his sad gaze fixed on the controls before him.

“I know,” Zeb whispered. “I know…”


	8. Chapter 8

Mind wandering in an abyss, body numb, unresponsive, Kallus could barely sense the edges of consciousness just out of his reach. He struggled to focus his thoughts, gain some control back over his limbs, but that drugged, dark void held him in place. 

There was a muted fear that hung over him – something not even the sedative could quell. 

He halted his struggles against the darkness, his addled thoughts still able to reason that there would be only pain and torment when he finally clawed his way out of this drugged stupor. On his own, he wouldn’t be able to escape the Empire. 

Despair started to burrow itself amongst his fear.

He knew comfort and happiness were not elements he would be granted any longer. There would be no more colorful paintings by Sabine, no more spirited, friendly sparing matches, or peaceful afternoons reading reports in the common room while listening to the light-hearted banter around him. There would be no more Chopper, Hera, Ezra, Kanan, Rex or Zeb. There would be no more life aboard the Ghost…

The grief of that thought was overwhelming.

He only hoped the others had made it out of the compound – that they hadn’t been captured or killed because _his_ planning had been faulty. 

It was his fault. He should have known better. He should have had a proper backup plan, and now his lack of preparedness would cost him greatly.

A bit of the fog suppressing his senses lifted, and he realized he could actually hear the thrum of an engine. He strained, trying to listen for voices or any other sounds that might indicate someone was nearby, but only the gentle hum of machinery could be heard.

He was probably alone. The notion let him relax a bit. 

Slowly, the sickly feel of clammy, sweat soaked flesh and heavy cramping muscles returned to him. His stomach churned. Obviously, whatever Thrawn had been pumped into him wasn’t sitting well in his system.

With difficultly, he forced his eyelids to move. They fluttered and strained, lifting just enough to give him a blurry view of his surrounds through his lashes. Only a dimly lit wash of grey greeted him before his eyes slid shut once again.

_Am I in a cell?_

It was too hard to tell for sure. He’d had but a glimpse of his surroundings.

Exhaustion pulled at him and, though he only meant to rest a moment, he awoke with more control over his body and realized that some hours must have passed.

The effects of the drugs were wearing off, and Kallus was quick to sit up and scan his environment. 

He was…on Kanan’s bunk in the Ghost?

Heart pounding, he let his eyes roam the quarters. It was unmistakably the room he shared with the Jedi, but _how?_

He sat forward, suddenly aware of the soft material he was clothed in. Looking down, he found he was wearing his grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. He was clean, and his wounds had been tended to.

None of this made sense. Kallus wracked his brain, trying to piece together how he’d gotten back onboard the Ghost – how he’d been freed of the Empire, but he couldn’t fathom what had happened, and waking up in his quarters on the ship felt too surreal.

Dazed, he remained motionless, afraid to move, afraid this was merely a dream. If it was, he didn’t want to wake up.

Eventually, he coaxed himself into moving, into planting his bare feet on the cold, metal floor and wobbling toward the door. He extended his arms, bracing himself against the walls.

The door opened and he peered into the hall, but no one was there. 

Kallus held his breath, waiting, listening. He needed to find someone and verify this was real, that he wasn’t crazy or dreaming or drugged. 

He padded quietly down the hall toward the common room, hoping to end his solitude. 

Barefoot and groggy, he stood in the doorway to the shared crew space, blinking at the four crew members gathered around the table. All eyes were on Kallus. He opened his mouth to say something… _anything_ … but he couldn’t force his voice to work. 

He felt foolish – like a child creeping out of bed looking for comfort from a nightmare, but, all the same, he had needed to see them. He wanted so badly to hear their voices. 

“Kal! Get in here and have a seat,” Zeb huffed, jumping up and making his way to the ex-agent. “Rex, will you get him some water?” 

The thought of water caused Kallus to dwell on the dry, scratchy feel of his throat. Thirst, which had been hidden behind his initial anxiety, nagged at him now.

“Of course,” Rex answered, as he rose and made his way to the galley. 

The Lasat hooked an arm over Kallus' shoulders and gently guided him to the table, forcing him into a seat next to Hera. It was nice to have the crew so close, and Kal felt a stab of sadness when Zeb drew back, removing his arm.

Syndulla gave him a soft smile. Her large, concern-filled eyes were scanning him, gauging him. “It’s good to see you up and about. We were a little worried. After all, you’ve been out for almost two standard days. We’ll be arriving at Yavin IV in a couple of hours.”

Kallus blinked.

_Two days?_

“Y-you came back for me…” He hated how uncertain, how weak his voice sounded, but it couldn’t be helped. He didn’t have the energy to hide the raw emotions surging through him. 

Chopper gave a few warbled chirps.

Kallus frowned. “What do you mean you didn’t come back for me?” 

“What Chop means…” Zeb said, a mischievous smirk in place. “…is that we didn’t come back because we never left.”

“Oh yeah,” Rex added, returning and setting a glass of water in front of Kallus, “that compound turned into quite the shindig. You really missed out during your beauty rest.”

“You…” Kal paused to rub his temple. He still felt groggy, his thoughts just a bit sluggish. “You defeated Thrawn?” With a shaky hand, he picked up the water and took a long sip. The cool, refreshing liquid soothed his burning throat. 

Chopper started waving arms in the air and spinning in circles, giving a triumphant ‘ _whoop-whoop._ ’ Rex shrugged and Zeb rolled his eyes at the droids antics. 

“Wait…Chopper…took on Thrawn?” 

Hera let out a muffled laugh. “Chop has really taken a shine to you, Kallus – enough to take on a Chiss.”

“Well,” Zeb grumbled. “It was kind of a team effort.”

“I dunno…” Rex leaned over and gave Chopper a pat. “I kinda feel like Chop and I did a majority of the work, while someone,” he paused to glance at Zeb, “was running around the compound like a madman.”

“Hey,” the Lasat growled, though his tone had an edge of playfulness to it. “I was causing a distraction – giving you time to sneak around the compound and get into place…that was all…”

The conversation continued. It was light, soothing, though Kallus found himself remaining silent, finishing his water, dwelling on how lucky he’d been, on how close he’d just come to a terrible fate. The Empire certainly didn’t have anything good planned for him. He shivered at the thought.

“You okay?”

Kallus blinked, shaking the dark thoughts away and refocusing on his crewmates.

“Yes…I just…” He paused, drawing in a shaky breath. “It’s just…I almost…it would have been…” _Karabast! Why was this so difficult?_ He cleared his throat and took a moment to steady himself. “Thank you,” he managed at last, his gaze shifting from Hera to Rex, then Zeb and finally Chopper. “For not leaving me.”

For a moment, no one spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Hera placed a hand on Kal’s shoulder and Zeb gave a soft sigh. 

They knew. He was sure they knew of his inner struggle, of the frustrating strings of ‘what ifs’ that danced in his head. Though he felt relief in the safety of the Ghost, that tremendous fear, anxiety and dread he felt during his capture did not evaporate so easily.

“Chop and I are going back up front to make our last jump.” Hera said, and Kallus stood so the Twi’lek could slide out of the booth. Her large green eyes were fixed on the ex-agent, and her expression, one of care and concern, felt both comforting and disconcerting to Kallus. “I’d suggest you get something to eat and maybe, though I know you’ve been out for a while now, a little more rest. It sounds as if we will all be busy for a while once back on Yavin IV, and Kanan, Ezra and Sabine should be meeting up with us there in the next couple of days as well.”

She gave one last warm smile before turning to leave. Chopper chirped a farewell and followed, a quiet, happy string of hums emanating from the droid.

Kallus watched them go. In fact, he was so fixated on watching Hera and Chopper that he hadn’t noticed when Zeb had slipped into the galley. Only when the bowl of steaming soup was plopped down in front of him did Kallus register that the Lasat had retrieved some food for him.

“You heard the Captain,” Zeb grinned. “Eat up! I’d imagine after almost two days of sleep, you’re pretty hungry.”

Actually, Kallus really wasn’t. His stomach still rolled a bit with from his earlier waves of anxiety and the aftereffects of whatever Thrawn had dosed him with, but he simply nodded and picked up his spoon. He knew he didn’t feel so poorly that he was going to be sick, and, chances were, his system would feel better once he got some sustenance into it.

“Thank you,” He offered up to Zeb.

“Uh…” The Lasat shrugged. “It was nothing…just…eat, and take it easy, okay? You gave us a pretty good scare back there, and it’s just…just…nice to have you back.” Zeb turned away quickly. “Rex and I are going to play some Dejarik. When you’re done eating, maybe you’d like to play?”

Kallus first instinct was to decline, to ask for his datapad instead, but he bit back that response and realized that he didn’t want to start reviewing reports just yet.

“I’d like that very much,” he said at last, earning a surprised grin from both Zeb and Rex.

 

*******************

 

Just as Hera had predicted, the crew was busy once they’d reached Yavin IV. There were multiple briefings to attend, the Ghost needed repairs, and the base itself was still in disarray with all the influx from Atollon. Rex and Zeb aided were they could. Helping to move cargo, work on new structures and repair ships. Hera was busy in strategic meetings. For nearly two days, the crew saw her mainly at dinner, and for the rest of the day she was simply gone.

Kallus sighed as he sat in the medical wing. He glanced down at the markings for his new rank, Captain. To say that he hadn’t expected it would have been an extreme understatement, but those in charge had been impressed with his detailed reports, his willingness to supply information about the Empire, and at how he’d risked his life to create distractions for the Rebellion. 

He had seen Hera’s reports on their outings. She had painted him quite favorably – almost more so than Kallus thought he deserved. He would have argued further against his rise in rank, however, it seemed that everyone on the crew had received a promotion and he didn’t wish to detract from their achievements or jeopardize their new standings simply because he felt unworthy of his own. 

A medical droid rolled into the room, and sat quietly for a moment, probably reviewing his medical charts. 

Upon Zeb’s instance, Kallus had gone in to have his wounds treated and his knee looked at. Apparently, the droids back at the Empire had done a shoddy job of fully repairing the joint. After a minor surgery at the Rebel base, and a healthy slathering of bacta, the knee felt better, _but…_

“Your checkup is complete,” The Droid’s said suddenly, “Please note that the knee has been repaired to the fullest extent that we are scientifically capable of at this time. It should not hinder you as much, but, as it was not properly tended to for so long, if you abuse it, carry too much weight for too long, or run very long distances, it will start to fail again. You have been cleared to report back to your posting. Thank you. Have a nice day!”

With that, the droid wheeled out of the room.

Kallus had expected this outcome. 

No, that wasn’t the truth. He had expected a worse outcome. He’d suspected the injury hadn’t been fully addressed after the ice moon, but his muddled feelings about the Empire at that point had him unwilling to present himself as overly vulnerable. Complaining, seeking further medical assistance from the very institute that had given up searching for him, from those who had decided he was expendable, felt wrong. He just wanted to withdraw, hide and forget. 

But...he wan't with the Empire any longer. He was a Rebel now.

He grabbed his jacket from the table and slipped it on before heading out the door. Glancing at the time, Kallus realized that Sabine, Ezra and Kanan were probably on Yavin IV. His appointment had run long, and he’d most certainly missed their arrival. 

Walking briskly, with purpose, Kallus made his way to the Ghost. As the ship came into sight, he could already see the crew gathered. Sabine, Ezra and Kanan were there. He could hear their warm banter. A sense of kinship just wafted off the group. 

It would be odd having the boy, the Mandalorian and the Jedi back on the ship, and even though they hadn’t really been around for most of Kallus’ time on the Ghost, he still found himself grateful for their return. 

As he neared, they turned, eyes focusing on him, and he felt a friendly warmth fill his chest. This was his crew. Unlike the Empire, they actually cared about him. 

“It’s time to get to work…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay all, that's it! I had at least three different endings I'd toyed with, but I went with this, the shortest of the three, as I'm running out of time before the next season starts.
> 
> I know a few readers have asked if I'd explore Julia's story a bit, or keep going with this one. I'm not going to say no, but I am going to admit it depends on the next season of Rebels. Pretty sure this story will be a bit AU after the next season, but that's okay. I might still revisit this work if I feel the pull! 
> 
> I want to thank everyone for reading this and being so wonderful!


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